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A Shot In The Dark [7]

 
Hyle Troy's picture
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No No it went… Hast du etwas Zeit für mich, Dann singe ich ein Lied für dich, Von 99 Luftballons, Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont” Meike warbled, then went on to explain. “It was very popular one time, a sort of protest song, everyone sang it at parties!”

Uwe rolled his eyes “So you are suggesting we protest outside Ye Olde Yeomanry and let go 99 balloons? Where are we gonna get 99 balloons from anyway!!”

Uwe, shuuush!” Shushed Monika from the other side of the booth. “Poor Sil’s in jail and all you can do is knock Meike’s idea down? OK maybe not 99 balloons but at least if we let go a few balloons and sing that song in solidarity. At least Silja might hear us and know she has our support against the fascist oppression of the NFPD!”

What did they get her for anyway?” Uwe asked. “I just wanted to know what to write on my banner.”

Meike bristled “Does it matter, The fascists kicked in her door at three in the morning, It’s a blow against freedom. There! That’s what you can write on your banner. FREEDOM!”


Theis polished some glasses as The Waffelhus echoed to revolutionary calls to action. It made him smirk whimsically.


But the dirty, half shaved face on the other side of the bar scowled before turning to address the burgeoning political faction in the booth. “She’s in for murder. There! See?” He snapped out with a certain amount of triumph.

The three friends were stunned into silence and the surly youth approached the booth, meaty fists clenched.


Murder.. And she’s gonna go down. Life!” He seemed to be taking pleasure in disclosing Silja’s misfortunes to her friends. “They got her for blowing a big hole in Hanne Berg’s head.”

Monika was the first to recover. “How are you supposed to know that, Mick Fischer?”

Fischer grinned “’Coz I know that’s all.” His face morphed into a triumphant sneer that showed bad teeth.

“So you and your ‘People’s Front of Flagstaff’ Or what ever you think you are can go ‘protest’ all you want. Silja Bitch Henningsbitch is gonna swing! Hah. She’s gonna rot in her ratty cell while you sing your stupid little protest songs outside.”


The prototypical‘PFF’ was stunned into silence by Fischers tirade. It was only Theis’ polite cough that stopped an otherwise oppressive silence.


Silja was freed on bail this morning. And it’s not murder, The victim is still alive.” Theis announced helpfully to the open mouths in front of him.

Fischer seemed more taken aback than any of them. Bah. She’ll swing I’ll make sure.”

Fischer grumbled his way to the door, a little crestfallen he could not enjoy crowing over Silja’s misfortune more. He slammed the door behind himself


The little group resumed, closely gathered around the booth table. The air buzzing with the news.


In the next booth, a plain clothed Officer Køjarsky jotted down notes as certain key phrases like ‘She does have a big gun’ ‘They say she’s really a ninja assassin’ ‘She did tell me once she absolutely hates Hanne Berg’ drifted out of the booth behind him.

 

Køjarsky closed his notepad and slid out his booth. At last, The Boss would be so grateful for this, the low-down that put a Ninja assassin away. He couldn’t wait to get back to Flagstaff.



Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((Oh... dear :( It just goes to show, you get a reputation and it follows you all the way to... *gulps* the gallows? (Psst, I know a bloke wot can do you a good deal on banners... How do you spell PFF?)

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hyle Troy's picture

(( t's P F F     not PPF  thats the Popular Peoples Front. SPLITTERS !

I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers

Joe Spivey's picture

((LOL :D

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hyle Troy's picture

 

Kopkage was the first to return to the Station.

You better have some good news, Kop.” Crabbe’s mood had not improved since the morning briefing.

Kopkage could only manage a half-hearted shrug. “I followed Spivey. He was up early. He went to his factory then …” Kop’s voice trailed off.

Then?” Crabbe was insistant.

The he drove into The Borough.” Kopkage finished disappointedly.

What did he do in there?”

You think I’m stupid enough to go into The Borough. In uniform. Alone?! Anyway as far as I could see he was alone, no one else was in the car. He came out a couple of hours later then went home. Sorry Boss, that’s all I have.”

Crabbe, who by now was sitting behind his desk, drummed his fingertips on the top.

Wonder what he wants in The Borough.” His hand slapped flat on the blotter. “He’s up to something. But what.?”

Crabbe’s cogitations were interrupted by a knock on the door and the arrival of Officer Dybbøl. Crabbe glanced up hopefully but the hope washed away justas quick as he saw the vacant yet slightly worried look on Dybbøl’s face.

Nothin’ Boss. The girl didn’t cross the thresh all day.”

Crabbe facepalmed. Another wasted day, the only member of his squad left to report was Køjarsky and for sure Køjarsky would bring his customary ‘Nada’ to the meeting. Crabbe mentally started to compute how many days away his gold watch was.

So it was with great surprise that the afore mentioned Køjarsky rapped on the door and bounded in, exuding uncustomary enthusiasm.

Boss! Boss! You’ll never guess. Henningsthingy is an anarchist!”

Crabbe squinted his eyes just to make sure he was not hearing things while Kopkage and Dybbøl looked at each other. Køjarsky gushed on.

Right! Today I managed to infiltrate an anarchist cell meeting. Two girls and two guys. Associates of Miss Henningsdottir.” Køjarsky peeled open his notebook for effect and read from the now slightly embellished lines within.”

So. It seems that Miss ‘Butter wouldn’t melt’ Henningsdottir is in fact a highly trained Ninja assassin with a grudge against none other than the highly respected Miss Hanne Berg of our fair city.”

Dumbfounded, Crabbe managed to mouth a ‘what?’

One of the gang. A scruffy individual who’s name I didn’t catch confirmed to the others that the girl had shot Miss Berg in the head with her ‘45 automatic. Facts which are only known to us, the police.”

These details appeared to impress the gang into wordless appreciation.” Køjarsky paused, raising his eyebrows to underscore his words. He took another moment to gather more information from his notebook.

At this point, Theis Lund Jakobsen. An employee of The Waffelhus informed the gang that Miss Berg was in fact not dead, whereby the scruffy one was so disappointed he had to leave. Whereupon the remainder of the cell closed quarters and began what I can only assume was a plot to attack this police station, to free Henningsdottir should she be recaptured by ourselves.” He looked up and grinned self congratulations to himself.

There was a long stunned silence. Crabbe looked at Køjarsky then the other two, his eyes demanding more detail.

It was Kopkage who broke the silence. “Anarchists in The Waffelhus!” His voice reeked of scepticism. “For fuck’sake Køjer!”

It’s true!” For added effect Køjarsky ripped out a page and handed it to Crabbe. “This is the list of the anarchists. We should strike fast. Arrest Henningsdottir before she melts away. You have to be careful with them Ninja’s, they’re fuckin’ dangerous. Oh And I have ordered wooden boards to barricade the windows. To be prepared when the anarchist cell attacks!”

It was Dybbøl’s snort that stopped Køjarsky’s flow this time.

Crabbe glanced up from the list that Køjarsky had handed him. “Flagstaff has home grown anarchists?”

Køjarsky nodded convincingly.

One of whom is a grocers son, one a daughter of a librarian and the other, the daughter of the Chief of Police?” Crabbe looked at Køjarsky. “You are sure you looked into this...” He paused. “...dilligently?”

Crabbe sat back in his chair trying to hide the frustration.

I heard all this. it’s true.” Køjarsky said, pointedly. “I was there, undercover. Plain clothes.”

Crabbe leaned forward. “So the un-named scruffy one had details of the hit that only we would know. You are sure?”

Absolutely!”

And he mentioned the girl by name?”

Yes!”

Crabbe nodded deliberately. He was weighing up the possible holes in the case. Would it be watertight enough to get past Joe Spivey’s lawyer friends. A further consideration would be the grief that another door kicking would cause him again courtesy of Spivey.

Finally after balancing his dread of Spivey against the fact he was a sworn representative of the law, even in this god-forgotten shit pit, Crabbe delivered his plan.

Kop. Tomorrow morning, wait outside Spivey’s place with... Sherlock here…” he nodded at Køjarsky, “As soon as Miss Henningsdottir puts a foot over the doorstep, lift her. Clear?”

Yes Boss!”

But what about the anarchist attack?” Køjarsky bleated.

 

Crabbe hurrumphed. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, hmm?”



I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers

Joe Spivey's picture

((Loving the bigger story. I guess being 125(ish)cm tall has its advantages :D

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Joe Spivey's picture

Joe set Finny to work. Silja and Annie followed silently and in increasing awe while Joe took Finny through the house and had her pick every lock he could find, even Kirsten’s jewellery box wasn’t spared. Door locks, cupboard locks, padlocks, drawers, bureaus, cash boxes and, although it took her half an hour, Joe’s study safe finally fell to Finny’s dextrous and, by now, aching fingers. Then Joe sent her off to eat while he descended into the cellar. When Joe returned it was to hand Finny a pair of thick goggles.

“These are night vision goggles that have been tinkered with to be more useful to, errr, people that work mainly at night in unfamiliar surroundings.” He showed Finny how to use the various settings and then the modifications designed for work up close. Finny was a keen and quick learner and immediately fell in love with the strange looking goggles.

Once he was satisfied Joe led Finny to the cellar door.

“Down there is a locked, ‘thing’ with something in it. I want you to fetch me the something.”

Finny nodded solemnly, it was to be a test. She was ready. Finny expected Joe to open the door then, but he just stood there with his hand on the door handle. She looked up at him. Joe had his serious face on.

“Sometimes it’s not just locks you have to get past Finn. You might find trip wires, pressure pads, cameras… and booby traps.” Finny swallowed but Joe wasn’t finished. “So also down there is a booby trap that probably won’t kill you.” Finny’s lips went numb and it took huge effort to keep a very vocal Fear from getting out of the box she had forced it into.

Joe was looking at her steadily. She nodded again.

“I’ll be careful.”

Joe’s nod was almost imperceptible. The lump in Joe’s throat definitely was.

“Good. You’ll be fine then.” He opened the door and, after a second’s hesitation, Finny disappeared into the darkness.

The door closed behind her and Finny found herself in pitch black silence. She lifted a hand to the goggles. The world turned bright green. Her fingers found the knurled ring Joe had shown her and the slight adjustments she made dialled the green nothingness back to an emerald vista of boxes, beams and brick-a-brack typical of those cellars that don’t belong to an average psychopath. Finny looked around for booby traps, all the while her fingers flipping between the various modes the goggles offered.

At the foot of the stairs a bright, thin, orange line of a laser light betrayed a trap of some kind. Finny stifled the excited giggle that rose up to her throat. This was fun!

Back in the carpeted hallway Joe was joined in his anxious wait by Silja with Annie in her arms. Joe explained what was happening. Silja was intrigued with the whole thing but, after a few minutes, Annie found staring at a door probably the most boring thing in the world and started to become fractious.

Below them Finny was gliding through the traps Joe had set for her. After a while she found something on a shelf that, like some of the booby traps before it, displayed a decaying heat signature left by the transferred body heat of Joe’s large hands. But this wasn’t a device of any kind, it was a box, with a lock.

Finny grinned in the darkness and unrolled the pick set. The box was too high for her to work on it so Finny went to lift it down.

Silja reluctantly decided that, interesting as all this was, if she didn’t do something to distract Annie then the little girl was going to work herself into such a state that bedtime would become a nanny’s nightmare.

Just then there was the very loud bang of a small explosion from the cellar.

Silja jumped. Annie squealed. Kirsten appeared from the lounge demanding to know what the hell was going on. Joe sighed. Everyone turned to look at the cellar door.

The door opened and Finny, her goggles around her neck, stepped into the light. She held the unopened box out and Joe took it from her. Finny looked at no one.

“Where’s the bathroom please?”

Everyone took in Finny’s situation at the same time. Silja passed Annie to Kirsten and gently took Finny by the hand and led her up the stairs.

Kirsten watched them go. Then her head snapped around to her husband and it began.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.



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